


Breath of Brightfire

by komorykatt



Category: Tales of Graces
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mutual Pining, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27220777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/komorykatt/pseuds/komorykatt
Summary: A lonely vampire dwells somber upon his throne, deep within the forests surrounding the Kingdom of Windor. A thousand years have come and gone since the day he laid his beloved king to rest, and the savage cycle of the world began anew. His heart leaps when one day a young adventurer sharing his king's face steps through his doors, but he won't allow himself to hope. For time is unforgiving, and memories of a love long lost could never be true again.
Relationships: Asbel Lhant/Richard Windor
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	Breath of Brightfire

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween!! I wanted to write something in honor of the Count Asbela alt in Crestoria since that's like. the best thing I've ever seen after the goth Asbel alt in Asteria, so here we are! I spent the whole month thinking about and writing this stupidly sappy richass au to pay respects to Asbela coming home (even though it took Way too much for me to get him on day one) thank you so much for the food bamco........
> 
> It's packed full of intense yearning and richass being disgustingly romantic so please enjoy i love them so much 💕

The night was cold, shrouded by the starless skies of a barren winter. A lonesome vampire sat silent upon his throne, his mismatched eyes the hues of dawn and dusk affixed to the heavy chamber door that stood across a stretch of crimson carpet. The chilled air of twilight slithered over his arms like a viper, fangs of a dismal, endless reality raking icicles over his flesh. It was his only companion within his hollow chamber, for all that came before the midnight draft had since drowned beneath the sea of time.

Asbela longed for the warmth of spring to return, ever praying for the colors of bittersweet memories to live beyond his castle once more. He could still remember the sunbeams that shone upon his pale cheeks that day, the memory fresh as though only a moment had passed since he stood outside the reach of dreary cobblestone walls. Blossoms of every hue had lined his steps, guiding him through the spotlight of adoring sunshine towards the castle flowerbeds he so cherished.

There an unfamiliar girl had crouched among the colors, her head full of lavender hair that was just as vibrant as the flowers she admired. Guided by the same lullaby of tranquil spring as he, a vampire and a girl stood within the colorful meadow, the caught breath of shared destiny strung through the distance between them.

She had turned toward him, eyes bright and with a mouth full of questions. In that instant his life had been forever changed by the touch of her grace. A lonesome vampire had made a friend that day, under the gentle sunlight of a beautiful spring. They had traded answers for what felt like hours, Asbela telling all sorts of stories of his castle in exchange for the girl to teach him the names of the lovely flowers that grew beyond it.

Her favorite had been the sopheria flower, its petals as lavender as her drawing inspiration for her name: _Sophie._

A thousand years had come and gone since the day he spent out in the meadow at Sophie’s side. Her visits had become frequent, each time guiding a new smiling face held in her small hands for him to meet. Those people filled his empty life with precious friendships, fond memories of their laughter filling cracks in his heart as the sandstorm of time raged outside his unchanging walls.

As the frigid signs of snowfall crept through his bones, Asbela found himself remembering the one face that had warmed his heart the most, time and time again. He was a blond man with dreams bigger than his lithe body, a man he had spent countless long nights beside, a man he had fallen in love with before he had a chance to truly realize what love was. He was the King of Windor, a curious man by the name of Richard.

They stood worlds apart— a human and a vampire, a king and an immortal, the beloved and the forsaken— but still they had forged a bond unlike anything either had felt before. And though his duty as a king had always chased Richard away from his arms with each budding dawn as the sun rose above, they had loved each other like no other through nights entwined.

Just as he missed spring, Asbela missed Richard more than his heart could take. The thought of his smile brought forth bitter memories of the last day he’d held his king tight in his arms, and the last fading smile he’d ever see upon a deathly pale face.

Every thousand years the world was reborn, and the souls once lost lived life anew. Days bled into months, years into centuries, as the verge of a millennia since he’d last held his beloved drew near. How the vampire longed to see his king again, but destiny would never be as kind to return the memories of a life lost. Asbela knew Richard would one day walk again, but never would he walk through the candle-lit doors of his broken chamber again.

Spring would come soon, for time was but a figment to a soul everlasting. His tired eyes sank shut, and Asbela drifted into the inviting arms of a never-ending slumber. Although the cruel cycle of life had torn his beloved from his arms, at least they could always meet again in his dreams.

* * *

The snow came down in unforgiving sheets, a landscape of endless white spread as far as the eye could see. A peaceful snowstorm had whirled into a ferocious blizzard as the day waned, all the colors of sunset hidden behind frosted gusts that washed out every hue. Even the shapes of the forest’s full evergreens began to blend into white as the storm raged on, and a once vibrant and lively world was lost completely to the whims of winter’s wrath.

Still, the weary adventurer trekked onward. He raised an arm to block the billowing winds and his pale gold eyes squinted against the snow that pelted frostbitten cheeks. Heavy boots dredged through the seemingly bottomless confines of snow drifts with each step as his long traveler’s cloak whipped behind him, the chill of winter seeping into his body with every twist of thickly woven fabric.

Richard wasn’t sure how much more of the cold he could take, but he couldn’t stop now. He knew in his heart that his destination couldn’t be much further. A few more steps, a few more clouded breaths and he would finally reach his goal— that fated place he’d chased all his life.

A resolute heart fought valiantly against the trials before him, led all the way up a snowy hill by the strength of foolish determination alone. He squinted again, eyes peering out in narrow slits, and a shape emerged amid everlasting white. The shadow of a dark castle loomed tall and harrowing within the blizzard’s fury, the very same castle that had haunted his dreams for as long as he could remember.

His heart skipped a beat, an end to his journey in sight at last. He pushed onward, each step carried by growing urgency to stand before the doors he’d spent so many years searching for.

The weary adventurer looked up as his footsteps slowed to a halt, his breath held as he took in the clear sight of the castle. Even coated in the indistinguishable white that enveloped the world, its intimidating atmosphere rang as true as day. Spires of dark gray stone touched the stormy sky, each adorned with the twisting patterns of rose-tinged stained glass. Twin gargoyles guarded either side of the tall birchen doors, their beady pebble eyes glaring daggers at him. A lump caught in his throat as he stared down the door.

 _This is the moment you’ve been waiting for_ , Richard assured himself, the strum of his heart beating in time with his racing thoughts. He reached an apprehensive hand towards the charcoal steel handles, his doubts suddenly feeling as heavy as the snowfall around him.

_But what if you were wrong all along?_

He paused to entertain the traitorous notion. His heart knew this place, that much he was certain of. The sight of towering stone felt familiar as though he had stood before it just yesterday; for he had, each night when he fell asleep. But this time it was real in front of flesh and bone, and a fire blazed bright in his chest against the frozen claws of worry.

Even if he was wrong, he needed to take shelter from the blizzard, and an excuse as simple as that put his mind at ease. Still, he was certain this was the place he was meant to be. The dark, somber castle had called to him for years with flickers of a beloved maroon-haired man that lived within his dreams, the blurred recollections of his smile long forgotten.

Richard’s hand met steel, and the heavy chamber doors swung open to a lengthy crimson-dressed hall.

The resounding creak of ancient doors stirred the vampire from his slumber. Tired eyelids pulled open with resistance and Asbela pointed his foggy gaze down the length of the corridor. He could make out the silhouette of a shadowed figure at his doorway, dashing his hope that the sound was merely a trick of the howling winds outside.

It was a rarity for Asbela to have visitors, and he could hardly remember the last time a lost soul strayed into the darkness of his chambers. He sat up in his throne adorned richly with golden flowers and cleared his throat, the motion feeling mechanical and routine. It was no matter; he would scare them off before they’d even have a chance to gawk, just as he did with any who came before them.

Then the figure approached, quiet footfalls drawing them into the low candle-lit light. There stood a blond man dressed in a heavy brown traveler’s cloak, his nostalgic pale eyes wandering with unabashed curiosity to behold the sights of the castle. All the words turned to lead in Asbela’s throat, and instantly he knew the man who had trespassed in his castle without a care in the world. He looked exactly like Richard— no, it _was_ Richard, born again as the cycle of time looped anew.

Fragile memories rushed through his mind, a bittersweet longing ignited by the sight of his love. His heart ached unbearably, but he fought to suppress the insolent hope that dared swell in his chest. He may have known who Richard was, but Richard could never again know him. It was no more than a cruel trick of fate, orchestrated by the vengeful gods above to mock him.

“Who goes there?” He finally managed to raise his voice to his visitor, a quavering sound that echoed against stone.

Richard jolted and a chill just as cruel as the winter air ran through him, the hairs on his neck all standing on end. He tore his attention away from the weapons that decorated grim walls and looked down the crimson carpet to the source of the voice.

His heart leapt when his eyes met Asbela’s and a familiarity he hardly understood rushed over him, nearly strong enough to knock him off his feet.

That was him. That was the man that lived in his dreams.

He pulled his shoulders up, stiff and anxious. He’d finally found him, but as his wild heart pounded deafening in his ears, he realized he’d never thought of what he would do from there. Richard had been led by the enchanting hymn of his dreams straight into a vampire’s lair, with nothing to go on except the whim that charmed his heart.

“I… I am Richard of Windor, an adventurer in search of the vampire known as Asbela,” he started, eyes flickering nervously between the vampire and the carpet below. “Would that be you?”

Fruitless hope again fluttered in Asbela’s chest at the sound of his name on Richard's tongue, but still he struggled to remain composed.

It was just a coincidence— _a painful, miserable coincidence hellbent on tearing his heart straight from his chest_ — and he reminded himself how every other traveler in search of his power had known his name as well. It was a common fable that pervaded the land; a tale of the vampire known as Count Asbela living deep within the woods that protected the kingdom of Windor. His gift of life eternal bewitched the hearts of many, like a siren’s song luring the greedy to his feet.

Asbela squeezed the arms of his throne, his claw of obsidian metal scratching faintly against polished gold. If Richard didn’t know him like Asbela did, then the avaricious heart of an adventurer was the only thing that could have drawn him through his doors. He pulled one arm up and propped his head idly in his hand, then crossed his leg over the other. He forced a faux confident smirk upon his lips, and voiced a silent prayer that the ruse of his menacing demeanor was at all believable.

“I am... But what business would an adventurer have with me?” he asked, his powerful tone hitching over the last few words.

Richard swallowed against the lump in his throat. _What business, indeed…_ His once-determined eyes fell downcast, his steely resolve wavering under that burning, familiar gaze.

Even though in his heart those dreams felt as true as the promise that the sun would rise, what if he was wrong? What if the visions that haunted him had meant nothing all those years, and were a mere product of stories told to him as a child of a vampire that lived beyond his home? Surely if Asbela knew him, he would have said something by now.

As sturdy as his resolve had always been, its cracks began to show once pressed against their fated encounter. How could he ever walk up to an all-powerful vampire and proclaim he’d been having dreams of a life with him for as long as he could remember? It was pure insanity. He had to think of an excuse, _anything_ to take those accusing eyes off of him.

A memory flashed behind Richard’s eyes, one of gilded dreams and an aching soul. He could see a blur of himself sitting upon the dusky bedsheets of a shadowed bedroom, his head tilted and collar lowered to expose bare flesh. There was a smile on his lips as a head of tousled maroon descended upon him, their hands entwined as sharp white fangs pierced his neck. Blood spilled from him and into the vampire’s waiting mouth, their essences mingled in a moment of pure bliss.

Despite the horror of it all, the vision never once brought fright to Richard’s heart. Instead he felt only warmth as he remembered; it felt right, it felt like home, it felt like the _key_ — the key to unlocking a love so entangled in the ceaseless passage of time. He couldn’t explain it, but knew he needed Asbela to drink his blood.

Richard shook his head to pull himself back to reality, shaking off the allure of encroaching dreams. He blinked hard, and the warm visions melted into the cold reality before him.

“I, um… I heard tales of a lonely vampire who lived here. So, I… er…” He stumbled over his words, his mind racing to find a way to goad the vampire into making his dreams a reality. His finger hooked into the loose collar of his cloak and he gave it an exaggerated tug. A flash of his bare skin was revealed for but a moment, an awkward gesture standing somewhere between anxiety and a hope to entice. “I thought if you were so lonely, surely you must… be famished? And I wish to offer my blood to you.”

Asbela’s head slipped from his hand, his chin hitting his chest as his mouth fell agape. He gawked, utterly dumbfounded at Richard, but not before he stole a guilty glance at the neck that so crudely teased him. “Th-that’s _crazy!_ Why would you—”

His eyes widened and his hand shot up to his flushed face, covering his traitorous mouth before more casual words could spill from his lips. That wasn’t befitting of a powerful vampire meant to scare off any human foolish enough to seek him— he had to sound _intimidating._ “—e-erm, why would I ever want the blood of a _lowly mortal_ like you?”

Asbela’s attempt to regain his frightening act was mediocre at best, and Richard saw right through it with a spark of hope gleaming in his eyes. With some of his tension eased by the vampire’s display, he approached the throne, stopping just a few feet before it.

“Is that not what vampires do to survive? Feast upon the blood of mortals in order to sustain your life?”

In an instant the fluster that held Asbela rigid died under a crushing wave of disappointment, drowned beneath the oblivious lies Richard spoke. It was the very same belief he’d heard over and over from the countless adventurers that breached his walls, always chasing a feeble dream of power and immortality. They had all believed vampires lived to drink the blood of humans and that their bite would grant them the power they craved, and in this life, Richard was no different. There could be no meaning behind his seeking him, no hopes of remembrance for a life long lost; it was just another pursuit for power the same as any other. He was a stranger to him now.

It was all too cruel.

“You’ve been reading too many fairy tales, adventurer…” Asbela tried his hardest to keep his tone even and cold, but sorrow hung heavy in his voice. “Drinking the blood of another is… it’s a promise of courtship for my kind, nothing more. I’d never partake in something so intimate with a stranger like you.”

Asbela’s eyes fell away from him, dark and crestfallen. The gloom that shrouded his face was familiar, so _horribly_ familiar, and it sent a pang striking through Richard’s heart like a fell bolt of lightning. He was seized by its wrath, transfixed.

He had seen that expression before. He remembered that same grim look cast upon him, his body wrapped tight in loving arms, holding him as though his life depended on it. He remembered seeing tears caught in the corner of those mismatched eyes, staring at him with a gaze that held more sadness than a heart could ever bear. He remembered a flash of unforgiving white, of regret, of pain, of everything going so peacefully _numb_ — and all was lost forever to cold.

Richard sucked in a deep gasp, his heart feeling as though it would burst from his chest.

“You should leave, Richard of Windor. I have no interest in entertaining you.”

He could hardly hear Asbela’s voice over the pounding in his ears. He took another step closer to him, bewitched by the profound feelings stirring within, not quite sure whether the emotion belonged to him or not. “We… had courted?”

Asbela flinched, and he raised his head to look at Richard. “What…?”

The foreign emotions flooding through him were overwhelming, growing and growing until they were all he felt, all he thought. An all-encompassing longing wrangled his senses and dominated his body, and his shaken legs carried him to stand scarce inches apart from Asbela.

A blur of memories flickered in the space between them. He had stood before Asbela just like that so, _so_ many times it made his heart _ache_. A loving smile was ever-worn on their lips, always happy just to be near each other. Why didn’t he smile now? He missed that smile, the one he’d never even known.

“ _Asbel…_ ” Richard breathed the name, so beloved and familiar on his tongue. Careful and tender, he laid his hand over Asbela’s dark claw, as if to check if he was really, _truly_ real.

“Richard…?” Asbela gaped at him, fearful and hopeful all at once. He stared at Richard, no longer just a stranger wearing his king’s face, but with a trace of his love lost to years long past shining in those star-kissed eyes. That name was something special, and it tugged on his heart with all the warmth of dearest memories.

_“Please, you don’t have to keep addressing me as ‘Your Highness’. You’re a precious friend to me now, there’s no need for formalities.”_

_“Alright, alright… But you’ve gotta stop calling me ‘Count Asbela’ all the time, too. Just ‘Asbel’ is fine.”_

_“Hm… If you insist, Asbel.”_

He swallowed against the lump stuck in his throat, and held back the tears that pricked just behind his eyes. Richard knew him— he _had_ to; he’d only called him that through those precious days spent growing ever-closer. Asbela finally allowed himself to hope, just this once.

“Do you… do you remember me?”

Richard nodded, slow and hesitant. "I've been dreaming of you... For as long as I can remember, I've always dreamed of you."

Asbela was speechless, hardly able to believe the words that danced in his ears. In that moment nothing he could say could express the feelings that burst to life in his chest, nor the tears that burned hot just below his eyelids. Instead they found solace merely staring into each other’s eyes for what felt like time eternal, searching their depths for two souls long torn apart to meet again at last.

Richard’s mouth went dry as he fell into the vampire’s gaze. The moment seemed all too fragile, as though a single word may shatter it forever. The Asbela of his dreams was as ephemeral as a mirage upon savage seas, and the reality of him was so dream-like that he feared even his breath might break him just the same.

“That’s why… I needed to meet you. I devoted my life trying to find you again.” He spoke slowly, studying Asbela’s expression as it shifted. His heart leapt when he saw a smile lift the corners of the vampire’s lips, and the tears that welled in his mesmerizing eyes. “The dreams are real, aren’t they?”

Those fresh tears fell all at once, glistening streaks of long-denied hope streaming down his cheeks. “They are… Yes, Richard, they all are!” he cried, his voice quivering like a petal on gusting winds. The surge of joy was too much to contain and Asbela captured Richard in a hug, pulling him down and burying his tear-streaked face into his shoulder. “I… I thought I’d never see you again…!”

All the tension held in Richard’s rigid shoulders fell away in the embrace of loving arms. There was so much warmth and familiarity within the grip of a body so cold, and his eyes slid shut to bask in the feeling. His chest constricted unbearably, muscles squeezing under a seize of emotion, and his arms wrapped around Asbela in return. He hugged him tight, desperate to keep him pressed against him before he faded into the darkness of fleeting dreams like he always did.

In the arms of a stranger, he felt at home— more at home than he ever had his entire life. For those dreams he lived every night were memories as true as the sun, and he had finally found the one his soul so longed to see again. He didn’t understand it, hardly a clue why he felt the way he felt, but it all felt too right to ever be a lie.

Still, he didn’t _know_ him; not truly. He didn’t know why his soul loved the man he held, and a touch of sorrow wormed its way through the gaping cracks in his relief.

Reluctantly, Richard pulled away from the embrace. Asbela turned a confused look upon him, but he met it with a steady gaze rife with confliction. “Asbel… I want to remember you, so much it hurts. Please, is there anything you can do to restore those fragments of memory?”

Asbela’s face fell. Of course, no soul-searching could change the fact this Richard had lived a different life than the one he’d known. A hug and reassurance that the traces of memory were real could never bring back all the history of a life lost to time. His hands glided down to rest in the curve of Richard’s back, still loosely hanging on to him even when apart, too afraid to let go of him entirely.

“I think I can imprint my memories on you…” His brow was furrowed, uncertain. He spoke purely upon conjecture, never having so much as thought of attempting an act so unorthodox before. “If I give you the memories we once shared, then I should at least be able to bring back all the time we spent together. But…”

Richard perked up, alight with optimism. “But?”

Asbela’s eyes burrowed into him like a stake, his gaze deathly serious. “Those are memories from your past life, Richard. I… I don’t even know how you’ve been dreaming of them to begin with. I don’t know what’ll happen if you remember them.”

A shadow fell across his face and his attention flickered away from Richard’s expectant eyes. Even with his beloved alive and bright before him, the memory of that cruel day still burned in the back of his mind. “...Especially the memories that might be… _unpleasant_ for you to recall.”

 _‘Unpleasant’_ was the last thing Richard cared to worry about. He’d endured what felt like a thousand trials just to stand at Asbela’s throne, and he was prepared to suffer a thousand more if it meant quelling the aching hole the vampire had left in his soul.

He laid his hand on Asbela’s shoulder and smiled at him, radiant and stunning and full of more resolve than he’d ever seen in him before. “I’m willing to take that risk for you. I want to remember the life we had shared— I _need_ to.”

It was impossible to say no to that smile. He was only a hair away from having the life he missed more than anything, and his fickle doubts could never deny him that chance. Asbela’s lips pursed with the last of his fading reluctance, then he nodded. “Alright… then bare your neck.”

The key clicked into place, just one turn away from unlocking every secret Richard yearned for.

He complied without a second thought and gathered the loose collar of his cloak in his hand, lowering it down the length of his neck to expose the skin underneath. Asbela swallowed wordlessly, anticipation thickening in his throat. He guided Richard to sit down on the arm of his throne and he held him by the waist, careful to keep him balanced beside him. His other hand pushed upon his back to bring him within his reach, and his cheeks ghosted the brush of blonde locks as he descended upon the crevice between neck and shoulder.

Richard tilted his head back, breath caught in his throat, and fangs slid home into unresisting flesh.

The pain he expected to feel never came. It was blissful and warm like a summer evening as the blood spilled from his body, and that held breath came tumbling out of his lungs in a sensual gasp. He lost himself to the feeling— the touch of Asbela’s gentle grip, the sweet sting of pricking fangs, the heat of his tongue grazing over skin— and his eyes sank shut.

Memories crashed over him, relentless as a tidal wave devouring a ship that sailed the stormy ashen seas. Behind closed eyes came flashes of vision and blinding color, sending ripples through his soul one weighted drop at a time.

He saw a girl with lavender hair, a girl named _Sophie_ , as she wrapped delicate fingers around his own. She led him through the woods with a skip in her step, until they reached the castle where he first met Asbela. He stood before the vampire, his chest puffed to disguise the fear that lurked within, and proudly introduced himself as king to the most stunning man he’d ever laid eyes on.

He saw himself smiling and laughing with Asbela, day in and day out, growing ever-closer as though they had been destined to meet. Their visits were brief but as the days went by and the seasons changed, the two became inseparable. They loved each other through grinning eyes and shared stories, before either even knew what it meant to love another.

He saw his lips meet Asbela’s in their first kiss, with all the clumsiness of young lovers. Their flushed faces burned against each other as they fumbled through inexperienced motions, bumping noses and stumbling over their lost balance. Even when they parted with the heavy weight of embarrassment between them, their love was as honest as can be.

He saw the day they stood hand in hand, the very first time they exchanged those three dearest words: _“I love you.”_ They sealed their love with fangs buried in Richard’s neck, the first taste Asbela would ever take of his blood. It was a promise, an eternal oath of their devotion to each other written in the blood that spilled over parted lips.

Then all at once, the dreamy haze shrouding his memories parted before the stretch of a war-torn battlefield on the brink of dusk, glaring cruel in its clarity.

He saw himself lying aged and broken in Asbela’s arms, amid the carnage of the terrible war between Windor and Fendal. The clash of swords and the brutal song of gunfire rang in his ears, pounding against his skull until he was certain his head would cave in. He wanted to look away and rid himself of the vision, but it played unrelenting before his eyes.

 _“Please… please, Richard, you can’t… not yet!”_ Asbela’s despairing voice was a whisper on the wind beneath the sounds of war, echoing through the dissonance and weaving into his soul. He looked down at Richard with tears in his eyes, dirt and grime smeared over his still-beautiful face. He hugged him close against his chest, and those tears spilled over his bloodied body. _“I swore I’d protect you…”_

He saw himself smile weakly at Asbela, and his fingers ghosted over his arm with a fading touch.

 _“You’ve already done so much for me, Asbel…”_ His own words were silenced by the roaring thunder of bullets, but they resonated within Richard as though he were speaking them himself all those many years later. _“But… if I may make one last selfish request… Please, protect Windor in my place.”_

Asbela gripped him tighter, and he wept. _“I will, I always will. But Richard, I… I can’t lose you,_ ** _please_** _, not yet…”_

The memory faded to black when Asbela pulled away from Richard’s neck. His frame shook as his tongue drew a line across the blood dripping down the length of his neck, and he kissed the puncture wounds until the bleeding stopped. Richard opened his bleary eyes a fraction, fighting off the hands of the past to focus again on the present all around him.

He took a deep breath, then another, filling his lungs with air to drive off the empty feeling that ate away at his chest. It was far too much at once, his soul remembering the life he once lived in an instant that felt like an eternity. He sat there a minute, not saying anything, not daring to move, held up only by the hand against his back. Even as he sat overwhelmed with more memories than one lifetime could hold, that hole in his heart ached with the cold emptiness of his last moments of life, and his last breaths torn from his lungs.

When he turned his eyes again upon Asbela that emptiness was filled to the brim with life, and at last he felt _right_. The memory of their tragic parting stung behind his lids in a well of tears but they would not fall, for he was the luckiest man alive to look upon the love of his life— _his lifetimes_ — all over again.

“So… you saved Windor after all.” Richard smiled fondly at his beloved and cupped his cheek in his palm. His fingers glided over skin in gentle circles and he knew, for _sure_ , that he was real.

The tension rolled off Asbela’s shoulders and the breath he’d been holding released in a soft, adoring trickle of laughter. “Of course I did… I’m your sword, after all.”

As breathtaking as the setting sun, Richard leaned down to meet with lips of moonlight. He felt a gasp catch against his mouth, and then Asbela kissed him back, deep with the longing of the thousand years they spent torn apart. It was nothing like the fumbling, juvenile kiss of his memories; it was so tender and fulfilling that it felt as though their hearts would burst at the seams with joy.

Richard pulled away after a moment joined together and breathed against Asbela’s lips, “Thank you.”

Even with his love hardly an inch away from his lips, it still felt as though the distance between them was too much. Asbela wanted to pull him right back into the kiss, but instead he dug his fingers into the rough fabric of Richard’s cloak, holding him there in the moment with him.

“I missed you Richard, so much…”

A hint of a smirk pulled at Richard’s mouth, filled with that playful spirit he missed so dearly. “Please, you’ve probably slept nearly as much as I did through the millenia.”

“Even so…” Asbela nearly whined, but Richard quieted him with another kiss.

The two met again as bright as all the stars in the night sky, happy as can possibly be. Asbela’s arms wound over Richard’s neck and pulled him down deeper into the kiss, guiding him to sit astride his lap. Richard pushed his body as close against him as he could get as their lips moved against each other, still not _nearly_ close enough for all his heart once ached, and his eyes slid shut. He’d never felt more content than he did in that moment, no longer lost in memories he hardly knew, but at last _home_ in the arms of his love.

When they pulled away to catch their breath Richard broke the delicate silence, his voice as quiet as a hare. “Asbel, may I… ask one more selfish request of you?”

Asbela raised his head, seeking those gold eyes that shined like pale starlight. “Of course. Anything for you.”

“Make me like you,” he said, without a trace of hesitation. Asbela’s shock was written plain in wide eyes and a raised brow, but Richard continued nonetheless. “If you’re going to live a life eternal, then I want to spend it by your side. I don’t want to leave you so alone ever again.”

The request was like music to Asbela’s ears, a sweet song he had so longed to hear some years long ago, even though he knew it could never be true. Relief swelled in his chest and bubbled in his mouth, and it took all his self-control to keep a hasty _‘Yes, yes,_ ** _yes_** _of course, Richard’_ from tumbling off his tongue.

“Are you sure…? You can never go back if I do that to you,” he prodded carefully instead, searching his eyes for any spark of doubt.

“I am. My bound duty as king was the only thing that kept me from asking you in my last life. But now I’ve spent my days as no more than a wayward adventurer, living a life devoted to a dream of you.” He sought out Asbela’s hands and wrapped them in all the warmth the vampire lacked through endless years, his grip firm in his resolve. “It’s a miracle I was born with enough memories left in my soul to chase after you, but I might not be so fortunate in the next life. I can’t risk that— we don’t _have_ to risk that.”

Asbela saw no doubt in Richard’s eyes; only a hope as radiant as the dawn breaking over the snowstorm that raged beyond his imprisoning walls. He could finally be free of the shackles of time, held forever in the embrace of the man he loved most; all he had to do was say _yes_.

“So please, Asbel... let me stay with you forever.”

Tears spilled freely down Asbela’s cheeks, the happiest tears he had ever cried. He nodded a smile through the sob that tore from his throat, and he wrapped his hand tight around Richard’s. “ _Richard…_ Nothing would make me happier.”

Their fingers intertwined, fitting together like perfect puzzle pieces that had been lost for so long.

“I love you,” Asbela spoke, and his head crescented into the dip of Richard’s neck. His fangs grazed over pale skin in warning, then plunged deep into his welcoming flesh. Richard gasped as shivers ran cold as ice and hot as fire down his spine, and his body arched into his touch.

“I love you too,” he whispered breathlessly, and his eyes sank shut.

Power rushed through Richard, pouring from the fangs in his neck and the tongue catching his blood, and it dove into his veins. It was a dark and comforting magic that weaved through his body, joining in perfect harmony with every aspect of him that made him _Richard_. The feeling was pure ecstasy, so much strength and life he’d never known filling him up from the tip of his toes to the top of his head, until he’d never felt more alive than he did in that moment.

He squeezed Asbela’s fingers with whitened knuckles as his mana morphed and changed into something different, something just like the vampire that held him. Bliss bled into pain then back into paradise, and then all over again in a savage cycle, but he would never regret his choice. He endured it all as his last shreds of humanity were whittled away by the power of a magic he could never truly understand.

After what felt like forever, Asbela pulled away from him, cradling his beloved through the tremors that racked his body. A minute passed, then another, and then the frantic breaths that shook Richard’s shoulders slowly quieted to a calm rhythm.

When Richard opened his eyes, he looked at Asbela with those same mismatched hues, the colors of starlight and a crimson moon shining red with brightfire. He smiled at him, vibrant and everlasting, and kissed him.

A lonely vampire and his wayward king were one at last, never to be torn apart by the cruel hands of time again. Between their lips breathed years of cherished memories, and a sweet promise of centuries more to come. They fell into each other as the sun rose above, its light no longer a sad cry that they must part until the morrow’s evening.

Spring was a long way away, but the two everlasting souls would treasure every second spent in each other’s arms through the frigid days of winter. And when the snow gave way to warmth and color, they would venture hand in hand to the flowerbeds of countless blossoms they once so loved, joined under the sunlight they could finally share.


End file.
